


To Bear Him Company

by smaller



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: 19th Century Medicine, Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Genocide, KuroFai Olympics, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaller/pseuds/smaller
Summary: Bonds are forged and chains are broken on the high seas in a race to stop a war.-- Written for the prompt "Trial By Fire" for team Dragon for the 2017 Kurofai Olympics. --((This fic is being posted incomplete for the posting deadline, and will be finished within a week.))





	1. Chapter 1

_But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship!  
O ship of the body—ship of the soul—voyaging, voyaging, voyaging._

_-Walt Whitman, “Aboard at a Ship’s Helm”_

 

 

Kurogane watched, stony, from beside the foremast as half of his crew stepped grimly off the deck of the gently rocking _Seeress_ and onto the harbor-dock and walked into the morning’s loud and busy crowd with all their belongings slung over their shoulders in sailcloth bags. None gave a single glance back.

His mate stood beside him with a worried expression, but gave no more than a barely audible sigh. There was nothing to say, after all, just a cargo to unload and new hands to hire – it was hardly the first time, he and Syaoran knew, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Well. Good riddance.

Kurogane’s last remaining deckhand and the cook were both watching as well, and Kurogane deliberately turned his back on the shore to face what was left of his crew. The light of the sun just cresting the horizon was broken up by the forest of the countless swaying masts and spars of every bare-poled ship in the harbor, letting the sun peek through their shadows in sudden, blinding bursts.

“You all staying?” he asked curtly.

Syaoran’s expression morphed from worried to a vaguely scandalized one that said, ‘how could you even _ask_?’ without words, but all the boy said was, “Aye!” while stiffening his already ramrod-straight spine.

“You know that stuff doesn’t bother me and Masayoshi,” added the deckhand, Chun Hyang, with a shrug, and the cook nodded quietly.

Kurogane folded his arms and after a moment gave a short nod. It was true. He probably hadn’t needed to ask, but he was irritable and frustrated. It was hard to run a profitable small trading ship when he had to pay more than double to attract hands to sail her, but that was still no reason to take his bile out on the dependable hands he did have – especially with everyone exhausted by the unhappy crew’s tension and the hard sailing to reach port quickly.

“Alright, well, tell you what. Get the unloading and other chores done quickly, and you lot can take the rest of the day and tonight as shore leave, and then pick where we sail next.”

Chun Hyang gave a delighted yell and jumped up and down, shouting, “Outo! Let’s go to Outo!”

Masayoshi piped up with agreement, and Syaoran smiled too, so Kurogane shrugged and said, “Fine, Outo it is. I’ll find us a good cargo after I find some more hands.”

The youngsters cheered and chanted “Ou-to! Ou-to!” together, and Kurogane scoffed, but with no real displeasure.

“Right then,” he said, stepping over to the hatchway to go below, “let’s get to work.”

 

 

 _Seeress’_ diminished company would end up spending the next few hours shifting the contents of her hold out onto the harbor docks. Apart from hiring loitering longshoremen as extra hands for the unloading, and sending short messages - by way of gap-toothed children eager to carry notes for coins - to those merchants who had standing orders for his cargo, Kurogane left the work largely to Syaoran’s supervision. He himself took a brief look at the ship’s account-book, made sure Masayoshi got to work on victualling the ship, and sent Chun Hyang off with a purse of coins and a short list of other necessities. With the sun less than an hour above the horizon, Kurogane headed up into the port city himself, followed by the ceaseless cries of seagulls and the lingering humidity of one of Port Piffle’s daily, brief, morning rain showers.

He usually enjoyed his visits to Port Piffle, remembering how much his mother had enjoyed the vibrancy and variety of the massive trade city. ‘ _All seas flow through Port Piffle_.’ Walking though the capitol city’s harbor district a person could bump shoulders with people from every corner of the globe – there were armored knights from Duklyon, silk merchants from Shara in lively, chattering groups, witches from Koryo with tasseled belts swaying as they walked, and even, sometimes, a rare survivor of Suwa, dark and reserved. Every building had wide awnings lining their fronts, and during the frequent cloudbursts the throngs of people would cluster beneath them with the fish vendors and gambling tables and negligible street wizards to avoid the rains, exchanging stories and wares, and then spill out to flood the streets again the moment the skies were clear.

But Kurogane was too preoccupied to take any pleasure from the walk that morning – though he did still appreciate the chance to stretch his legs – as he followed the broad avenues of Piffle’s harbor district to the first local sailors’ haunt where he hoped to find another few capable sailors looking for work. To his mounting ire, however, every sailor Kurogane approached refused to sign on with _Seeress_. When he demanded to know why, some of them gave him a frightened look and extricated themselves from the conversation as quickly as possible, while others gave him a knowing sneer and spat on the ground. Kurogane grit his teeth and walked away each time – the collection of merchant houses that governed the region agreed upon very little, but disturbing the peace was one infraction where all of them were in accord, and a brawl in the city was not worth losing his ship.

Kurogane lost count of the inns, taverns, pubs, gambling dens, and wharves he visited with no success.

Sailors’ gossip and rumor had finally spread far enough that there wasn’t a single experienced man or woman in Piffle who would sail with _Seeress_.

He needed a cargo, he needed more hands to work his ship, but most of all he needed a drink.

 

 

“Kurogane, master of _Seeress_?”

Kurogane looked up from the table. Three women in the uniform of the Daidouji house guard were stopped in front of him. Two of them carried rifles with polished cherrywood stocks, and the one in the center who had spoken wore a lieutenant’s stripes and a saber at her hip. Kurogane stood slowly. He’d broken no laws, breached no peace, and couldn’t fathom what the soldiers wanted with him, unless there’d been an incident with the ship or his crew, and in that case it would be the Harbor Guard handling the issue.

“What do you want.”

The lieutenant held out an envelope. Kurogane took it and inspected it, keeping a wary eye on the armswomen. The unaddressed envelope was scented with lavender, making Kurogane wrinkle his nose, and the wax seal bore an impression of the Daidouji crest. The Daidouji family had been one of the few foreign minor powers to welcome Suwano refugees, and had not refused to do business with those who were starting over with nothing. Kurogane even did his banking with them when he traded in Piffle. Of all the striving merchant houses here, they were one of the most powerful, and the only one he had any real respect for. He broke the seal.

 

 _“Esteemed Sir,”_ it read, in elegant, looping cursive,

_“First, I must beg your forgiveness for the untoward manner in which you received this letter. There is a matter of grave urgency that I must consult you on, and I dared not waste time hoping for you to receive my note through the usual dalliance of the postal system.”_

“Had enough time to waste a lot of ink, though, didn’t you?” Kurogane muttered.

_“Second, I must beg you to accept my request for a meeting. The one who delivered this to you will show you the way.”_

Kurogane scowled up at the Daidouji lieutenant, who remained impassive.

_“Third, I must beg you not to refuse. To that end, I have instructed the harbormaster to detain your fine vessel until otherwise notified.”_

 

“What!” Kurogane crumpled the note in a fist. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” he growled at the armswomen.

The lieutenant’s face remained neutral, and she replied politely, “I’m sure this will all be sorted out easily, sir, if you would please come with us.”

“What if I refuse?” Kurogane’s fingers itched for the sword he had to leave in his cabin every time he visited Piffle.

“That would be your right,” the lieutenant answered. “You are not under arrest, Shipmaster, but I think you will find your time in Port Piffle much more convenient if you agree to the request in that letter.”

Kurogane glared at them, and back at the creased letter. Suddenly he squinted more closely at the precise hand. The handwriting was not familiar, but… he had a sinking feeling he knew who had sent it, if not why, and he also knew he wouldn’t like the ‘why’ at all.

Damn it.

 

 

The Daidouji guards led Kurogane higher into the city, through the bustling trade district surrounding the harbor itself, up countless stairs to reach the city proper, and into a more sedate neighborhood where armed guards for every merchant house escorted bankers, guildspeople, and wealthy officials along streets lined with trees and statuary. Eventually they stopped at a building that looked much like every other unremarkable commercial building around it, with an equally unremarkable doorway inset along one side. They went in.

There were two more Daidouji guards in the hallway they entered. They saluted the lieutenant before exiting the building, and the pair in Kurogane’s group took up the vacated posts inside the door. Kurogane raised his eyebrows when the lieutenant said to him, “One moment, if you please, Shipmaster,” and locked the door behind them, before resuming the lead and guiding him further into the building.

Copper lamps made the hallway they travelled brightly-lit, and the thick, patterned woven carpet absorbed the sound of their tread. Kurogane saw and heard no other people, and while there was no atmosphere of danger – this lieutenant was trusting him at her back, after all – he did not like the air of secrecy surrounding everything here, and his face set deeper and deeper into a scowl as they walked.

Finally they stopped at another closed door, and the lieutenant knocked once, then twice. A voice from the other side called out, “Enter,” and they did.

It was a good-sized room with a high ceiling that Kurogane appreciated, probably intended for small meetings. In the middle of the room was a large table with several chairs, and sofas and potted plants along the walls. There were no windows. At the head of the table sat a familiar young woman who smiled as he walked in, and on a sofa beside her were a girl about the same age, with short hair and tanned skin, and a pale man who was obviously tall even sitting down.

The lieutenant held the door for Kurogane, then released it, remaining outside the room as the door clicked shut.

Kurogane had been right. “You,” he said, glowering, “owe me an explanation.”

Tomoyo Daidouji, heir to the most powerful governing merchant house in Piffle, beamed and gestured at the table setting before her. “Tea?”

“I don’t want any damn tea. You want something from me or you wouldn’t have had me dragged all the way up here. I want to know what it is.” He cast an eye at the other two people in the room.

The tall man wore a bland smile that slipped when Kurogane stepped into the room. The falsely polite, empty smile returned to his face so quickly that Kurogane had almost missed the slip, and he decided instantly that he didn’t like the spindly bastard at all. He also didn’t like that, for all his travels, he could not tell where the man was from, with his unfamiliar pale coloring and fine bone structure.

The girl next to him wore clothing similar to Tomoyo’s in what, he supposed, was probably the latest in Piffle ladies’ fashion, but she was clearly a foreigner as well. In fact, Kurogane realized with an unwelcome start, she looked like she was from Clow.

He turned a fresh glare on Tomoyo. “No,” he said. “Whatever you want, if it involves her,” he pointed at the girl from Clow, “I refuse. I’ll have nothing to do with any scheme that involves one of those-“ he couldn’t quite manage to call the slip of a girl before him a ‘ _murdering bastard_ ’, but the sentiment remained unsaid, and he finished with a poisonous, “- _those_.”

The girl gave a little, “O- oh,” and there was the hated accent of Clow as she said, “You’re Suwano. Tomoyo didn’t- I mean,” she stammered for a moment under Kurogane’s withering glare, and then collected herself. She shocked Kurogane then, by standing and gathering her skirts, and giving him a deep curtsey. She bowed her head almost to the ground, before looking up at him and speaking with what he could only call profound sincerity. “Shipmaster Kurogane of Suwa, please allow me to express my deepest sorrow. What happened to your people was an indescribable tragedy, and whatever role Clow played was inexcusable. I humbly beg your forgiveness for recalling that pain to you.”

Kurogane realized he was breathing hard, and uncurled his fists. It had been Clow vessels that had fired on the craft trying to evacuate Suwa fifteen years ago; Clow vessels outside their jurisdiction, but justified in international opinion – and by their king – for enforcing a quarantine, and thus never punished. This girl no older than Syaoran was too young to have been involved, but she was the first person from Clow that Kurogane had ever heard speak a word of regret or apology for it. It was something unexpected, and somehow it both sharpened and muted the old wounds of memory. But it still wasn’t enough to make him stay.

He clenched his jaw and pointedly did not look at Tomoyo. “I’m leaving.”

He turned on his heel and took one step towards the door, but before he could get farther than that Tomoyo said:

“War.”

That brought Kurogane to a stop.

Tomoyo was looking at him with the gravest expression Kurogane had ever seen her wear, and had pulled herself into a standing position, with both hands braced on the edge of the table to take the weight off her bad leg.

“Sit back down,” Kurogane told her. “What war?”

Tomoyo eased herself back down into her chair, the strain evident on her face, but when she spoke it was with her habitual, unfaltering poise.

“Kurogane, please allow me to introduce Sakura of Clow, and Fai Flowright, a physician. Sakura, Doctor, this is Kurogane of Suwa, shipmaster of the schooner _Seeress_ , and the key to our plans.”

Sakura curtsied again, and Flowright inclined his head a fraction. Kurogane jerked his head stiffly at the two of them before turning his attention back to Tomoyo and dragging a chair out to sit around the corner of the table from her. “ _What war_.”

Tomoyo let out a tired sigh and laid a hand on Kurogane’s arm. “There is so much you need to know, and not enough time to tell it all. The short version is this. Sakura is cousin to Fei Wong Reed.” Kurogane tensed, but his outburst stilled on his tongue under the weight of her hand and gaze. “She stumbled across his plans to wage war across the entire continent, starting with Piffle, and she fled here secretly to warn us.

“So far, we believe that Fei Wong doesn’t realize Sakura is no longer in Clow, so we’re keeping her presence here secret so that he has no reason to change his plans. This foreknowledge is our only advantage. But it has been impossible for my mother to convince the rest of the merchant council to begin preparing an organized defense on what, to them, are unsubstantiated rumors. Clow has always been friendly towards us, they say, and they refuse to act on my mother’s word that Fei Wong means war, because,” her voice grew bitter, “they fear it would interrupt commerce.

“Piffle has considerable strength at sea, but it’s unorganized. Our mariners are used to fighting off pirate vessels, yes, but if Clow launches its well-trained armada against us, as Sakura says he intends to, our ships and sailors will be plucked off the sea one by one, along with their wealth, which Fei Wong will use to finance the armies he plans to land in our defeated harbors to access the rest of the continent.

“So together we’ve devised a way to stop the Clow fleet before it reaches Piffle.”

Tomoyo reached out to slide the tea setting away, and pull a pile of documents towards her. Kurogane recognized the one on top as a chart of Piffle’s coast to the northeast, and as Tomoyo flipped through them they were nearly all local sea-charts. She stopped at one lithograph that showed the entire rocky Piffle coastline as well as the broad stretch of sea between it and the Sun, the Moon, and the Star, the three large islands that comprised the kingdom of Clow.

On the map numerous points had been marked along the Piffle coast and at sea. After a moment of consideration, Kurogane figured out what they were. “Lighthouses?” he said. He was well familiar with the locations of Piffle’s network of lighthouses to safeguard ships away from Piffle’s many hazardous rocky shoals, and the fog signals that guided them through the frequent sudden mists along its cliff-walled coast.

Tomoyo looked pleased. “Indeed. And this is where Doctor Flowright will prove indispensable. Doctor, would you care to explain how your device works?”

The pale man stood and somehow managed to make the two steps to the table seem _condescending_. It was something in his posture, the tilt of his head and the way he didn’t make eye contact.

“Well,” and he stretched out a hand for a blank sheet of paper and a pen that he plucked from its well with an unnecessary flourish, “it operates along principles determined by bioelectrical generation of human energy signatures in conjunction with telluric current and geonomic specificity in order to produce a targeted, localized field that will immobilize any oceanic conveyance manned by those native to Clow.”

He was bent over the table, sketching the entire time in quick, sure strokes, producing a diagram of something that looked like a feather in a bell, with pointing arrows labeled in an alphabet Kurogane had never seen before. Kurogane didn’t understand a damn word coming out of Flowright’ s mouth, and he didn’t understand the diagram, but it was clear this was some sort of game or test, so Kurogane folded his arms and waited.

“Or, in layman’s terms, it will use magic, with Sakura as its focus, to create a sort of net that will stop any ship carrying someone from Clow.” Flowright finally glanced up at him, and Kurogane couldn’t read what was in the half-hidden blue eye, but it certainly wasn’t warm.

Kurogane narrowed his eyes. Flowright was some sort of wizard, then. He was certain that this Flowright was having a laugh at the ‘ignorant sailor’s’ expense, but there was one thing that he did understand. “Magic doesn’t work at sea.”

“ _Most_ magic doesn’t,” Tomoyo replied. “There are exceptions,” and she gave him a pointed look that he pretended not to notice. She went on after a moment, “Which is why we’re using the lighthouses. The coastal ones are no problem, and since the ones at sea do rest on solid, if damp rock, the projection system Doctor Flowright has devised will work as a tight beam between each location, and stay active across the moving water.”

Kurogane was getting impatient again, and the insufferably casual posture of Flowright, still stretched across the table, chin propped up on one long-fingered hand, only irritated him more.

“None of this explains what you want me for.”

Tomoyo plucked the pen from Flowright’s hand and circled the most distant lighthouse on the map. “You’re going to help deliver the devices, of course!”

Kurogane grit his teeth again. “Oh, _will_ I?”

She nodded back at him, temporary levity gone. “Yes. You’ll do it because it’s important, because it will stop a war, and because I need you, Kurogane.”

He was uncomfortable hearing her say something so sincere in front of strangers, especially one with no evident sense of public decorum whatsoever, as he had dipped a finger into one of the teacups and was doodling onto his diagram with tea. Kurogane fought not to curl his lip at the man.

“You have an entire fleet of ships at your command. Faster ships, with more firepower.”

Tomoyo smiled. “You know there are few ships swifter than _Seeress_ in these waters. And indeed those ones whose masters can be trusted with discretion have already been dispatched to many of the other locations with devices and careful instructions for the lightkeepers. I need you to supply the last outpost.” She tapped a finger on the circled point.

“That rock is the one closest _to_ Clow. What if they’ve launched their fleet already? You know _Seeress’_ armament. Send an actual warship. Or better yet, send a whole armada.”

Tomoyo shook her head. “There has been insufficient time to get word to House Daidouji’s fighting ships at sea. I’m certain you’ve heard how bad pirate activity has been around Infinity this year. Too many of our frigates are occupied convoying our traders in those waters.” She glanced at the girl from Clow, who looked down at her shoes as Tomoyo added, “It’s possible that this is not by coincidence.”

After another moment Tomoyo continued, “My mother has authorized a very handsome payment for your service in this matter, and you may like to know that I have managed to find another three, and possibly four leads for that side hobby of yours.”

Kurogane could name at least eight things wrong with this whole scheme, and it irked him to no end that Tomoyo wasn’t seeing reason. But still – leads on tracking down another three or four wrecked or stolen silverships? Kurogane was tempted.

He didn’t like feeling bribed, even if it was a legitimate payment, but he also didn’t know whether she was just trying to involve him because of their long acquaintance, a job as a gesture of friendship for a ship that had become nearly unsailable.

Kurogane knew there was no changing Tomoyo’s mind when she latched onto an idea, so he tried appealing to the girl, Sakura, since it was a certainty that any other human _had_ to be more reasonable than the little Daidouji dictator.

“This is a terrible plan. _Seeress_ is not the kind of ship for a mission like this, and she’s certainly not the kind of vessel for anyone who isn’t used to the sea.”

Sakura looked up at him with wide green eyes. “What do you mean?”

“She’s small.”

Sakura nodded. “I understand.”

“I mean she’s _too_ small to fight off a larger enemy ship if they took an interest in us. Her crew is too small and her guns are too few. All we could hope to do is outsail them.”

She appeared to actually consider this for a moment. Then she said, “I must trust to your sailing ability to keep us safe, then,” and looked at him with such unmovable, pure trust that Kurogane was taken aback. That was not what Kurogane had meant _at all_ , and he grit his teeth.

“You won’t be able to bring more than you can fit in one sack,” he tried instead.

This inexplicably earned him a little smile. “We had to travel light to get here quickly, after all. I don’t have much to bring.” Kurogane tried to change tack.

“Everyone aboard has to work, and work aboard ship is _hard_ work.” He frowned sternly down at her over crossed arms.

Instead of being daunted, she nodded gamely, and clasped her hands together. “I can work hard, and I’ll learn quickly!” Kurogane cast about for another course.

“At sea, the word of the master is law. You’d have to follow my orders, noble or not, and whether you like them or not.”

Sakura made an awkward gesture that was probably meant to be a salute, and piped, “Aye, Captain!”

“The bread will have weevils.” Kurogane was trying not to let his growing desperation show.

This time at least she looked a little green, but she said, “You… you just pick them out, right, while you eat? I can do that.”

“You’ll have to piss in the head.” Tomoyo gave him a disapproving look.

Sakura looked puzzled at this. “The head?” she asked, then repeated to herself, “ _Piss_?” Kurogane slapped a hand to his forehead. What could he possibly say to change her mind? Then he thought of it.

“She’s haunted,” he told her bluntly.

The girl paled. “R-really haunted?” She looked terrified, and Kurogane thought he had finally won. Then she clenched her fists and lifted her chin. “I still have to go,” she said, determination in her face despite the tremble in her voice. “This is too important. And I trust Tomoyo, and she trusts you. I’m sure it will be okay.”

“You could _die_!” Kurogane threw his hands in the air.

The room stilled.

Sakura bowed her head, and the smiling fool behind the noblewoman finally had a hint of anger showing in his face. Flowright drew in a breath, but before he could interject, Sakura spoke softly.

“I know I could die. I could have died a lot before now. I’ve been lucky, and I’ve been lucky to have Dr. Flowright and Tomoyo and other people to help me get here.” She looked back up at Kurogane. “I understand your reservations, and I respect them. But I have to stop my cousin from hurting a lot of people. He is very powerful, and despite everything this is the best chance we have to do so.”

There was determination, surety, sorrow, and an air of command in her clear gaze, and Kurogane found himself thinking of the pure green waters of an atoll, and of the fragility of its coral reefs, and yet beneath them dwelt a submerged volcano.

Kurogane was kind of impressed.

He was also finally ready to concede defeat, but he still had one question.

“And what about you?” he asked Flowright directly.

“Me?” the man answered, pulling away from the table finally to slouch against the back of a chair instead. “Oh, well,” his gaze drifted around the room, still not making eye contact with Kurogane, “of course I’m going too. I don’t really have much choice, after all.”

Kurogane had been frustrated, irritated, and thwarted all morning, but at hearing this he felt actual, true anger for the first time that day. “ _No_. You _always_ have a choice,” he growled. “You may not like what the choices _are_ , there may be no _good_ choice, but _you_ can decide which way you’d rather go. Don’t give me that ‘no choice’ nonsense. Pick your path and own it.”

This startled Flowright into straightening and staring at him, and Kurogane finally got his first good look at the man. Pale hair that could use a thorough combing, a drawn look to his face that spoke of long hours and little sleep, and eyes bluer than the phosphorescence of _Seeress_ ’ wake on a moonless night.

Flowright smiled, very slightly then, and said, “I suppose what I meant, then, is that this is the only choice I could possibly make.” He snapped the fingers of the hand still holding his diagram, and the paper sparked into flame and was rapidly consumed, scattering ash in a cloud around him.

Wizards were so _irritating._

But there was one very real problem left, and he said to Tomoyo, “I still don’t have enough crew.”

“Oh, leave that to me,” she winked at him. Kurogane groaned aloud. He _hated_ it when she winked at him.

 

 

Tomoyo and Sakura said a very heartfelt farewell to each other, and Kurogane snorted privately. The girl from Clow was exactly Tomoyo’s type. He snorted again, loudly enough for her to hear, and though she outwardly ignored him, the tips of her ears did redden gratifyingly.

Tomoyo rang a bell and the lieutenant entered the room to take a stack of letters from her and disappear again with them. As Sakura and Flowright began to gather their things, Kurogane approached Tomoyo to ask quietly, “How’s the leg?”

“It’s been much better lately,” she smiled. “Mother found a nurse who has been publishing papers on a very different new treatment – she has me doing exercises with it twice a day. And I designed a new brace, with articulations, to help keep it limber.” She shifted a little in her chair to show him how she could adjust the hinges and fix them into different positions, and he admired her handiwork for a minute.

“Well,” he said with a cough, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t be unbearably sentimental, “good job. Also, I want you to send half of that payment, and everything you’ve found out directly to Yuu. If war breaks out before I can get back, he’ll be able to follow up on your leads without me.”

“Why, Kurogane, are you worried?”

“Of course I’m worried. You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re not stupid.” Tomoyo laughed at this and reached out to hug Kurogane around the waist. He endured it admirably for a second or two, then carefully unwrapped her arms. “Yeah, yeah. But if you’re worried, I’m worried. How much time do I really have, and will this really work?”

“If we all do our part, it really will work. But, time?” She clasped his hand in both of hers and entreated him, “…Be swift.”

 

The Daidouji lieutenant led Kurogane, Sakura, and Flowright down a stairwell into a lower level of the building, and then through a winding series of hallways and stairs and what Kurogane realized had to be tunnels between different buildings. She let them back into the street at last perhaps a mile closer to the harbor and several street levels lower. Kurogane sneered privately at the secrecy of it all. ‘ _We had no knowledge of the Clow noblewoman who defected with state secrets_ ,’ he could picture some Daidouji official saying to some ambassador. Fucking politics.

It was well into the afternoon, but the freshness of the southerly breeze, free of the harbor-stink this high into the city, helped temper some of the humid heat. Kurogane’s thoughts were occupied with whether the youngsters had finished provisioning the ship yet, whether they had gone off to enjoy their shore leave, necessitating that he spend valuable time looking for them, wondering when the new hands Tomoyo was sending would arrive, and wondering about Flowright’s motivations. The girl from Clow had spoken hers plainly, and he believed that she simply wanted to prevent a war, even if it meant working against her own king. Flowright, though, had not been straightforward at all, and Kurogane didn’t like not being able to tell where someone’s priorities lay.

They reached harbor level soon enough, and the Daidouji lieutenant parted ways with them after bending to hand a folded letter to Sakura and whisper something in her ear, eliciting a sunny smile and a nod from the girl.

The sight of _Seeress_ rocking at her mooring as they approached her berth pulled a delighted gasp from Sakura, who cried, “She’s lovely!” Kurogane was still irritated by the entire situation, but her open admiration mollified him a little, and after all, the girl from Clow was right. Even with sails furled at dock, the schooner’s two tall, raked masts, precise and streamlined rigging, tidy deck, and polished carronades and fore and aft swivel guns presented a trim, elegant image, and it looked like somebody – probably Masayoshi – had taken the time to touch up the silver paint on the carved dragonhead of her prow, which glittered with light reflecting off the water.

Syaoran was alone on deck, dressed, Kurogane noticed, in his best jacket and trousers, and Kurogane saw when he spotted them approaching along the docks. He waved at Kurogane before turning to whistle down the hatchway. Chun Hyang and Masayoshi both popped up onto deck in their best clothing as well, and to Kurogane’s amazement they were followed by a boy Syaoran’s age, a girl a bit older, and a tall Suwano woman, all wearing the brown jackets and lavender neckerchiefs popular among sailors in Piffle.

They were clearly Tomoyo’s promised hands, and for them to be here already probably had something to do with those letters the little schemer had sent out.

“Change of plans,” Kurogane said as he stepped aboard. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said to Chun Hyang, who along with Masayoshi looked positively delighted about something, “we won’t be going to Outo this time ‘round. Got a job to do for the Daidouji instead.” He looked at the strangers on his deck. “What’s all this, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Syaoran said, “this is Souma, Ryuuoh, and Meiling. Souma and Ryuuoh were mates aboard _Six Stars_ ,” Kurogane’s eyebrows rose at the name of one of Piffle’s most distinguished frigates, “and Meiling was master gunner aboard _The Fight_.” Kurogane’s eyebrows rose again. “Everything is loaded and we’re ready to sail at your word.”

“What do you mean, ‘everything is loaded’?”

Syaoran looked confused. “The note you sent this morning, sir. The supplies are in the hold, we’re provisioned and watered, and can leave immediately.”

“…. _What note._ ”

Concern on his face, Syaoran pulled a folded paper from his jacket and handed it to Kurogane. Kurogane flipped it open.

His face got redder and redder as he read a perfect imitation of his own hand and phrasing instructing Syaoran to get the youngsters back aboard and prepare to take on a priority shipment for House Daidouji, along with the sailors and other staff joining them as crew for the voyage, and two passengers that everyone had better be on their best behavior for.

“…She _forged_ my _handwriting?!_ ”

He stomped toward the hatchway and his cabin below. “Sir!” came Syaoran’s voice behind him, but too late to keep Kurogane from dropping below and nearly colliding with a group of men at the foot of the hatch. They wore no uniform, but they stood four abreast and two deep in perfect rigid formation, with identical, matching vertical crests of spiked hair like upside-down keels along their shaved heads.

“Attention!” cried the little round-faced man at the fore of the group, whose hair spikes were divided down the middle into two crests like a bow-wave. “Daidouji marine contingent, Major Kanio, at your service, sir!” The group of marines saluted in unison.

Kurogane blinked. Then he took a deep breath and shouted up the hatchway, “Get those two stowed below and prepare to cast off. The tide leaves in thirty minutes and _Seeress_ leaves with it!” He stomped aft to his cabin and slammed the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> aft - towards the back, or stern, of a ship or boat
> 
> bare-poles – a ship’s masts with no sails set
> 
> carronade - a smaller, shorter variety of cannon that had a shorter range but that weighed less, placed less strain on a vessel, and could be operated by fewer people
> 
> forward - towards the front, or prow, of a ship or boat
> 
> head/heads - small platforms near the waterline on either side of the bowsprit with a hole built in the center, to be used as the ship's toilets
> 
> schooner - 1) a variety of ship with two (or more) masts, where the foremast is not taller than the mainmast, and every mast carries a 'fore and aft' sail; 2) In a gaff-rigged schooner, the sails have four sides, are raised at their tops by a spar called a gaff, have one side laced to their respective mast, and are secured at the bottom by a spar called the boom. They can be swung from side to side to catch various angles of wind.
> 
> spar - a general term referring to any mast, gaff, pole, boom, etc


	2. Chapter 2

_And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,_  
_And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying._  
  
_-John Masefield, “Sea-Fever”_

 

 

Kurogane fumed in his cabin for a few minutes, but there was no room to pace in its cramped confines, and fuming while sitting felt too much like sulking, and he refused to sulk on his own ship, even if that little meddler _had_ played him like a fiddle.

He listened for awhile to the gentle creaking of the ship’s timbers, never silent, even moored, and the lapping of seawater on her hull all around him. Presently he opened out the little hinged board that served the cabin as a folding table between his cot to starboard and his chest to larboard which doubled as a bench, and in a voice that could be heard strongly throughout the ship he called out, “Syaoran to the cabin.”

Syaoran knocked on the door almost immediately, having evidently been waiting nervously just outside, and when Kurogane called for him to enter, he ducked through the low door looking abashed.

“Sit down,” Kurogane said, spreading his own sea-charts across the table, “and pass over that divider.” Syaoran did so silently, and Kurogane decided he was sick of the guilty expression on the boy, so he added, “I’m not angry at you, lad. Alright? You didn’t know a _certain someone_ would think it was funny to _spy on my ship a_ nd _trick my mate_ and _mock my authority_.” He was grinding his teeth. Tomoyo would be tittering to herself for _days_ about this.

“Either way, it’s done,” he went on, “and I don’t want to admit it, but that little maneuver saved us a lot of time. This is where we’re bound.” Kurogane leant over the map and marked the point far out to sea that would form an irregular ring if he were to draw lines connecting it to the crescent of Piffle’s coast.

Syaoran looked surprised. “The Ridge?” he asked.

“Close. Specifically, its lighthouse.” He explained the situation in full, and Syaoran listened closely.

“How does it work, though?” he asked when Kurogane had finished.

Kurogane shrugged. “Damned if I know. Ask the _doctor_ ,” he said with a sneer. He cleared the table and folded it away again, then stood, stooping to keep from hitting his head on the planking of the deck above. “And marines,” he muttered to himself. “What the hell am I going to do with a pack of marines?”

Syaoran preceded his captain out of the cabin, and Kurogane said, “Assemble all hands to cast off.” He could see forward to the hatchway, where the group of marines still waited patiently. Syaoran edged through them, and from the deck Kurogane could hear his clear call for ” _all hands_ ”.

The marines didn’t move.

Kurogane scowled and went forward. “That includes you,” he told the major.

“Pardon, sir, but we’re only to take orders from you.”

“That’s my chief mate. You’ll take orders from him, too.”

“Understood!” the major shouted cheerfully, and the marines poured up the ladder with a high-pitched cry of, “ _Wooo_!”

They cleared away, and from around the mast Kurogane spotted Sakura looking uncertain, and Flowright following behind her. Sakura was wearing a pair of loose trousers and a short jacket, which Kurogane recognized as Chun Hyang’s, but Flowright was still wearing his tailed coat and fine breeches, and Kurogane supposed they would have to fashion something more workmanlike that would fit him.

“Does that include us, too?” Sakura asked.

“Once we’re out at sea, yes,” Kurogane told them. “I’d rather keep you out of sight for now. This port has eyes from everywhere on the globe, and you’ve already been out in public once today. You two stay below until we’re away from land.” He left them and headed up.

It had been a long time since _Seeress_ ’ deck had held so many people, and when it had, they had all been Suwano. So this was nothing like those times.

Kurogane didn’t like the thought of setting off into what might end up being the teeth of a Clow armada without giving his people the right to choose the danger for themselves – he also didn’t like the idea of not informing the people of Piffle so they could begin arming themselves or evacuating, but they were Tomoyo’s people, and her problem to deal with, not his. His responsibility was to his ship and her people. So he struck the best balance he could, and addressed the crew.

“This is going to be a more dangerous voyage than you may be used to. More dangerous than sailing pirate waters. I can’t give you more details than that now, but I’m giving you the chance to stay behind if you choose.” His crew looked back at him. He waited a moment, and when nobody said a word, he continued, “Also, some of you may not already know that _Seeress_ is haunted. It isn’t dangerous, but people find it unsettling.” Kurogane expected the sailors already knew, and indeed they didn’t appear to be fazed by the information, but to Kurogane’s surprise the marines remained equally impassive, without the fear or misgiving he had expected to see on at least some of their faces. Huh.

When the silence stretched on for long seconds with no half-anticipated cries of, ‘That’s it for me, I’m out!’ Kurogane huffed and said, “Let’s split you lot up into watches then.”

He divided the crew up into the first and second watches, headed by himself and Syaoran. He placed the newcomers Souma and Ryuuoh, and Major Kanio and four of his marines, as well as Sakura in Syaoran’s watch. That left Chun Hyang, Masayoshi, the newcomer Meiling, and the last four marines, as well as Flowright in Kurogane’s watch. He was satisfied. It was far more people than strictly needed to handle the sails, and sleeping below would be crowded, but this arrangement gave each watch a good balance of able sailors, ordinary sailors, and raw landspeople.

“Can any of you hand, reef, or steer?” he had asked Major Kanio.

“No sir!” the major had replied. “But we can work your guns, and I daresay if you point at a rope and say ‘pull’, you won’t find a more willing spirit to pull until you say ‘stop’.”

Kurogane had not been impressed.

 

 

They followed the receding tide easily out of the mouth of the harbor, with the inconstant breeze out of the southwest from the open ocean and the foresail set close-hauled on a starboard tack to take advantage of it.

As _Seeress_ hit the greater swell of the Sea of Dreams her motion became livelier, and the wind became steadier. They set her mainsail then as well, and with the greater spread of canvas the ship pressed forward eagerly.

Kurogane, at her helm, felt the ship come more alive beneath his hand. She rose and dipped with each wave that crossed her bow, and the drop after the taller swells caused a splash at her bows that the wind sent sweeping in a fine spray across her forecastle. The foaming wake stretched out behind her, pushing the mainland further and further away.

Kurogane’s spirits rose for the first time in days. They were sailing into uncertainty and danger, but they were _sailing_ , the finest means of travel in the world. He had a solid crew, large enough that they could alter trim as often as he wanted without exhausting the hands, which would allow a speedy passage. Within a few hours everyone would be settled into the steady routines of life aboard ship. The sun warming his right shoulder had time yet before it reached the horizon, the weather was fine and the barometer steady, and, best of all, he had been given the chance to do something that would upset Fei Wong Reed.

This was going to be worthwhile.

 

 

At some point, Sakura and Flowright had come up on deck. Sakura had spent some time at _Seeress_ ’ bows, clinging tightly to the forestay and watching the sea with rapt attention, though Flowright had retired back below looking a bit queasy. Now, Kurogane could hear Syaoran in the waist showing Sakura and the marines the ropes. “Now when we say, ‘Tally on!’” the lad explained kindly, “we mean for you to clap on to the end of a particular line, and haul for all you’re worth. And so, here at the foremast, this is the gaff foresail peak halyard, and this is the gaff foresail throat halyard. Mind the boom when we come about. There you can see the halyards of the main. Come up fo’ard now and I’ll show you how we set the forestaysail and jib. Has…” he trailed off, glancing sideways at Sakura and blushing, before continuing, “has anyone explained the heads to you?”

 

 

Masayoshi, as ship’s cook, was given lighter deck duty, and though cooking for so many people at once was certainly more challenging, the boy managed admirably as far as Kurogane was concerned. Supper aboard ship was always simple – tonight it was boiled rice and dried seaweed, and it was neither undercooked nor late, Kurogane’s only two judgements regarding quality. And, having so recently been in port, Masayoshi had acquired enough fresh food to last for a few days, which allowed everyone to have the pleasant addition to their supper of one fresh peach apiece. Kurogane ate alone in his cabin, plotting out their course by lantern-light and trying to guess what the weather was likely to be. The Sea of Dreams could surprise even a very experienced mariner, but for now the glass foretold easy weather.

 

 

After supper, Kurogane was back on deck with his half of the crew for the first dog watch, but Flowright failed to appear at the chronometer’s peal. Kurogane frowned. Surely Syaoran had informed the landspeople what was expected of them?

Syaoran turned _Seeress_ ’ helm over to her master, showed him the course sailed in the last hour, and went below to get his own supper. Kurogane spent a few minutes directing her hands to make some small trim adjustments, and once satisfied, called Chun Hyang to take over the helm. Then he went below to sort out the missing Flowright.

Kurogane made his way forward belowdecks, keeping his head bent well away from the beams. _Seeress_ had carried a great variety of cargo in her years, but this was the emptiest he had ever seen her holds. A handful of crates that likely held Flowright’s device or its components were the only extraneous items there, leaving the low space feeling paradoxically bare, though there was certainly plenty to occupy the hold. Great casks of fresh water, well secured against the pitch and roll of the ship, and then dry food stores, and other necessities – carpentry tools, a small anvil and forge, paint and sailcloth, great coils of rope, and lockers for gunpowder, cartridge and shot.

Further forward was the little brick galley, and a board that could be placed on support pegs there at the base of the foremast to serve as a mess table for the hands, and then stowed away when not in use. At the moment, Syaoran and his watch were having supper at it, and some of the marines were throwing dice. Beyond that was the forecastle, where the senior crew had bunks built along the sides, but the newcomers would have to sling hammocks to sleep in, with the companionway leading abovedecks letting a little late-afternoon sunlight filter down.

One hammock was slung already, swinging with the motion of the ship and shivering and emitting soft groans any time it swung too hard.

Sakura stood by it, gently patting the tangled mop of pale hair that could be seen at one end of it. A small bucket rested below the hammock.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ he thought, frowning consideringly. A moment later, Kurogane turned and made his way back aft. He returned with a heavy, woolen blanket from his cold-weather gear, and dropped it over the miserable wizard with a grunt of, “Here.”

Flowright turned a startled, bleary eye up at him, and Kurogane deeply resented the look of surprise. The man was clearly seasick, and, on top of that, probably suffering the ‘wizard’s curse’ that afflicted many magic-wielders who travelled across flowing water. His mother, a priestess of some small power, had avoided sea and river travel as much as possible for the same reason. Kurogane wasn’t going to ignore the obvious suffering of one of his crew – nobody _asked_ to be seasick, or to have magic, and Flowright had no business looking like he had expected a blow instead of a blanket from him. He scowled and crossed his arms.

“Morning watch is in ten hours. Be on deck if you’re up to it. Don’t be if you’re not. Syaoran can show you where our medical stores are if you want to physic yourself. When Masayoshi comes below later, he’ll cut you some work slops that’ll fit, but you’ll have to pay him. Return that,” he pointed at the blanket, “when you’re done with it.”

Kurogane stepped over to the companionway to climb back on deck, and called out behind him, “And if that bucket spills, you’re cleaning it up yourself!”

 

 

When the watch changed hands again, Kurogane watched for Sakura to appear. The girl was, smartly, sticking close to Souma and following the older woman’s lead whenever she didn’t have a specific task to carry out. After he had reviewed the desired course with Syaoran and relinquished the helm to him, Souma saw him angling towards them and politely stepped away to give them what illusion of privacy could be had on the deck of a ship.

“How’s that skinny wizard doing?” he asked without preamble.

Sakura bowed to him. “Thank you for looking after him! It was very thoughtful of you to be so concerned. He’s sleeping now; he was able to find something in your stores that made him feel better.”

He didn’t entirely like the girl’s assessment of ‘thoughtful’ or ‘concerned’, but it wasn’t worth correcting her. “Well. Good. Glad to hear your doctor isn’t entirely useless then.”

Sakura blinked. “Oh, Fai wasn’t _my_ doctor. He was- er, he’s very good anyway.” Hastily she changed the subject. “But I wish he was up here to see all this! Mister Syaoran, and Miss Souma and Mister Ryuuoh have all been very kind showing me everything and teaching me the names of all these spars and ropes and such! There is so much to learn! And Mister Syaoran even showed me how to read a compass, and tried to explain how your chronometer works without magic.”

Kurogane’s eyes narrowed as the girl went on. What had she been about to say about Flowright?

Well, it was sure to come out eventually. On a ship, it was nearly impossible to keep secrets.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> able/ordinary/landsman - the ranking system still used today as an assessment of a sailor's skill level at sea. A landsman/landswoman/landsperson has no shipboard experience. An ordinary seaman/seawoman/seafarer has spent one to two years at sea, and an able seaman/seawoman/seafarer has at least two years of experience at sea and is considered "well acquainted with their duty".
> 
> boom - the spar that controls the lower edge of a fore-and-aft sail
> 
> close-hauled - sails positioned very close in to the ventral midline of a ship, which allows lift force (rather than drag) on the sails to propel a ship at an angle close to the direction the wind is coming from. No sailing ship can travel directly into the wind, but by sailing close-hauled at angles across the wind, a ship can ‘zig-zag’ along a course that amounts to the same vector.
> 
> dog watches - a pair of shortened, 2-hour watches in the early evening. With five 4-hour watches and two 2-hour watches in a 24-hour day at sea, having an odd number of watches allows each watch division to alternate days for a more fair division of labor and sleep cycles.
> 
> forecastle - 1) the part of the upper deck between the foremast and the bow; 2) the most forward part of the lower deck where the crew sleeps
> 
> foremast - the mast that is forward of the mainmast
> 
> forestay - part of the ‘standing rigging’ (fixed rigging for supporting the masts and spars), a shroud that supports the foremast
> 
> forestaysail - a triangular sail that can be attached with two corners on the forestay and one corner attached by a rope to one side or other of the deck
> 
> glass - 1) barometer (as in steady, rising, or falling glass); 2) a telescope; 3) a sand-glass of various useful durations - 30 seconds and 30 minutes were common glasses aboard ship
> 
> halyard - part of the ‘running rigging’ (adjustable lines that control sails) used to raise and lower the ends of the gaff that raises a sail in a gaff schooner
> 
> jib - a triangular sail attached to the bowsprit
> 
> larboard - when facing forward, the ‘left’ (port) side of a ship
> 
> main - the main mast is near the center of a ship. it carries the mainsail controlled by the main halyards, may carry a main topsail higher up on a removable main topmast, and is secured by its own stays
> 
> peak - the topmost, aftmost corner of a four-sided gaff sail
> 
> slops - originally a term for trousers, but came to refer to the trousers, jacket, hat, and other clothes that would be issued to a sailor by a naval board or by a ship’s purser. At sea, replacement clothing could be made out of soft, worn old sailcloth no longer good for sails, or out of tarred cloth that would be comfortably waterproof.
> 
> starboard - when facing forward, the ‘right’ side of a ship
> 
> tack - 1) the lower, forwardmost corner of a sail, where the boom meets the mast; 2) a way to describe a ship’s course relative to the wind, i.e., ‘on a starboard tack’ if the wind is on her starboard side; 3) tacking, the act of moving from one tack to another by swinging the ship’s prow through the eye of the wind 
> 
> throat - the topmost, forwardmost corner of a gaff sail, the top corner closest to the mast
> 
> trim - the angle and adjustment of a ship’s sails relative to the wind
> 
> waist - the middle part of the upper deck, aft of the forecastle, forward of the quarterdeck
> 
> watch - First Watch occurs from what we would call 8pm to midnight. The Middle Watch follows from midnight to 4am, and then the Morning Watch from 4a-8a, Forenoon Watch from 8a-noon, the Afternoon Watch from noon until 4pm, and finally the 1st Dog Watch from 4-6pm, and the 2nd Dog Watch from 6-8pm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am heartily sorry for having such unfounded optimism regarding my ability to post on time. Please continue to look forward to the final chapter, coming this week to an archive near you.

_Through the coloured iridescence that swims in the warm_  
_Wake of the tumult now spent and gone,_  
_Drifts my boat, wistfully lapsing after_  
_The mists of vanishing tears and the echo of laughter._

_-D.H. Lawrence, “Dreams Old and Nascent”_

 

The only constant at sea was constant change.

Watches changed, like the sun and stars, with regularity. The sea and sky changed with subtle variations on a broad theme, predictable in a general sense, but with infinite variations. And then, one could make general predictions about the wind, too, but there you were far more likely to be surprised or mistaken.

Kurogane was a light sleeper regardless, and a lifetime spent at sea and on his ship had left a part of his mind fully aware of changes in _Seeress_ ’ motion even as the rest of him slept. Some time early in the middle watch, that part of his mind sensed the reduction in speed that spoke of a corresponding reduction in wind, and detected the faint sounds of Syaoran directing the topsails and the big square-ish fisherman sail and to be set to catch the light airs high above deck. Much later in the middle watch, Kurogane’s ship-sense told him of a change in the way _Seeress_ rode the swells, and an increased heel to her, and more activity on deck.

As a result, Kurogane was unsurprised to wake in the pre-dawn gloom before the morning watch to be greeted with a brisk wind out of the northwest, and _Seeress_ knifing southwest through the dark waters under a full spread of canvas, with the wind on her beam.

The vast sky glowed with the diffuse light of moon and stars hidden behind a gauzy veil of racing clouds, and water rushed fast against _Seeress_ ’ sides.

"Twelve knots, sir!" Syaoran called across to him from the wheel, and Kurogane's teeth showed in a pleased grin.

The delighted faces of the crew added to Kurogane’s satisfaction as he made his rounds checking the sails and rigging. The wind carried fat droplets of seawater in cold bursts across the deck and sent the sailors’ long pigtails streaming to leeward.

Sakura stood braced against the heeling of the deck with one arm looped through the ratlines leading upwards to the maintop, looking both shocked and thrilled in the wind and spray. The newcomer Ryuuoh sat straddling the bowsprit and whooping with laughter each time the ship made as if to buck him off. The marines were all well-accustomed to sailing, if not so much to working ship, but even they were not unmoved by _Seeress_ ' impressive speed, looking even the more pleased since they had been there to help her achieve such a rate.

And high above deck, resting in the perilous sway of the maintop, was Souma.

Kurogane was not a man given to melancholy, but something about seeing her up there, dark against the shrouded sky and looking solemnly up at where the moon hung, staining the firmament with light, called out to him.

He grasped hold of the ratlines and began to climb up.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted him as he twisted himself up through the futtock-shrouds and into the top. He grunted back politely.

They swayed there at the top of the mast in silence. It wasn't a place greatly suited for conversation, but at length, Souma spoke.

"Was she your family's?"

Kurogane didn't answer, but that itself was an answer.

She traced the rigging with her eyes. "It's good that you have her. I have nothing of my family." It was said matter of fact, neither expecting nor receiving pity, and again Kurogane made no reply, but listened.

"I was out shark-fishing with my parents and younger sisters. We'd been away from home for almost a week. We had no idea what had happened. We were off the coast of Piffle in the middle of the night when another ship crossed our wake. I woke up, hearing father arguing with someone across the water, and snuck up on deck to listen.

“I could see their lanterns, and smell the slow-match, though I didn’t know what it was then, and then suddenly mother shoved me over the rail and they fired, right through our stern.

“I’m sure my sisters were trapped below. I don’t know if mother or father survived. I found part of the rail, and floated for two days before a ship spotted me and pulled me out of the water.”

Her voice was steady, but her eyes were hollow.

Kurogane spoke, low, “My mother was still in Suwa.”

Souma bowed her head, and they were both quiet, aloft in the cold wind.

When Souma spoke again there was warmth in her voice. “I wanted to say how honored I am to be on your ship, Captain Kurogane. Everyone’s heard of you. You’ve found and returned over twenty silverships to our people. Even those who settled ashore know that it’s thanks to you that we still have so much of our heritage.”

Kurogane hadn’t spent much time with other survivors of Suwa, other than Yuu, who had been his father’s friend, and he truly had not thought that their work together mattered that much to anyone. For Kurogane, retaking the ships from thieves or dredging up their battered hulks was a matter of principle. They belonged with the Suwano. Or, alternately, they _didn’t_ belong with other people. To Kurogane, it was as simple as undoing an objective wrong. He had never considered that it might have meaning beyond that.

 

 

Back on deck, Kurogane looked at the traverse board for the general course and speed sailed over the last watch, and clapped a hand on Syaoran’s shoulder. The lad had worked the ship and his watch well. The sky was too obscured for a navigational reading, but dead reckoning put them much further along their course than Kurogane had expected for the first day. Kurogane would trade his left arm for this kind of wind on command, but experience in these seas told him that it was likely to slacken off considerably after dawn, so he planned to make the most of it while it was there.

The chiming of the chronometer pierced the ship, and Kurogane’s watch filed up onto deck so that those in Syaoran’s watch could head below for a welcome four hours of sleep, with Sakura rubbing her eyes and yawning terribly the moment the excitement of being on deck faded.

Flowright emerged from the main hatch, wearing sailcloth trousers and shirt. Kurogane eyed him from the wheel as Chun Hyang handled the directing of the hands to various tasks. Though a little wan in the cloud-glow and the small pools of lantern-light, he was certainly standing tall enough, and he moved with the careful economy of a landsman still learning the constant movement of a ship’s deck, rather than the halting steps of somebody unwell.

Kurogane was too busy keeping the helm steady against _Seeress_ desiring to turn her nose into the wind to spare much thought to Flowright beyond that he seemed fit for duty, but he cast a glance at him every so often to gauge how he fared. ‘ _Those skinny wrists still won’t amount to much, though_ ,’ Kurogane thought to himself, but not much later he was surprised to be proved quite wrong when Flowright took his turn working the bilge-pump, easily keeping pace with the marine working next to him.

 

 

The sun’s rays lit the ship in her full glorious spread of canvas, the white sails towering above _Seeress_ ’ deck like the clouds piled high on the horizon behind them, and drew a ship made of shadows running beside her on the sparkling water.

The wind, also as expected, began to die not long after, and swung around to puff in little fitful gasps from an inconsistent, generally southerly direction.

Kurogane steered the helm to the best of his ability while Chun Hyang and Masayoshi directed the hands to adjust the sails in order to catch what wind they could, but eventually the ship’s motion was reduced to a gentle rocking on the water’s surface, and very little headway, with her sails hanging limp on their spars. Sometimes the fisherman would fill slightly, and _Seeress_ would make a little distance, but the ship was essentially becalmed.

Well. Wishing wouldn’t get them wind.

It wasn’t long before Kurogane noticed Flowright watching the limp sails. He would peer up at them, and then turn his head to stare across the sea before them, and then look up at the sun as if to gauge how far it had moved since the last time he had checked.

After observing the tenth or so such display, Kurogane motioned for Chun Hyang to come up and take the wheel.

“Looks like you enjoyed making other people scrub the decks this morning, kiddo,” he said to her suspiciously as she skipped gaily aft.

“Damn right!” she grinned happily up at him. Kurogane scoffed. Cheeky kid.

Flowright saw him approaching, and the tiny furrow of concern between his brows was quickly erased.

“Why, if it isn’t the captain!” said Flowright, with far too much enthusiasm.

Kurogane frowned. Was the man going to act as if he hadn’t been eyeing the southwestern horizon like he expected to see Clow warships cresting it after less than a day at sea?

“The wind will come back,” he said, deciding to address what he guessed was Flowright’s worry. “Just give it a little time.”

“A little time,” Flowright repeated, the corner of his mouth twitching almost into a grimace. “There isn’t as much time as you think,” he said, low.

Kurogane’s attention sharpened. What did Flowright know, or suspect? “Why not?” he demanded, equally low.

Flowright ignored the question, however, saying instead, “This is a silvership, isn’t it?” His head was turned away, facing the sea.

Kurogane was instantly on guard. “What about it?”

“Well,” Flowright said with an indifferent tone belied by his words, “the stories all say that silverships can be sailed without wind. Why not just… sail straight there?”

Kurogane simply looked at him for a moment. “They _could_ be. They can’t now.”

Some emotion Kurogane couldn’t read flitted across Flowright’s averted face. “Why not?” he echoed Kurogane’s earlier words.

“None of your business.”

Flowright turned to look at him then, and whatever he saw in Kurogane’s expression made him say with a mock gasp, “Why, Skipper, are you going to make me walk the plank? Keelhaul me?”

Kurogane narrowed his eyes. “We don’t have a plank. But I can make one just for you if you call me ‘Skipper’ again.”

Flowright laughed then, a grating sound, and Kurogane watched the tilt of his head, thrown back. He had the creeping suspicion, hearing it, that Flowright really _did_ want to be thrown overboard, and for the life of him he could not fathom why.

 

 

At the next changing of the watch, Kurogane drew Flowright aside to tell him he wanted to see him in his cabin after breakfast. Flowright blinked, and then let a slow leer spread across his face. “But, Cap’n,” he crooned, “we’ve barely even met!”

Kurogane gave him an incredulous look, heat rising to his face.

“Tch! Don’t go getting any funny ideas,” he finally managed to get out, and fled below.

 

 

The knock on the cabin door came earlier than expected, and Kurogane called, “Enter,” setting his breakfast to one side. He scowled. He was ready this time for any inappropriate comments Flowright might make. Honestly, that sort of talk belonged in private if it was serious, and shouldn’t be made at all if it wasn’t!

But it wasn’t Flowright who pulled the door open – it was one of the marines in Kurogane’s watch, Sergeant Teka.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said the marine, with a mournful expression. As far as Kurogane had been able to gather so far, Teka’s default expression was rather mournful, so he didn’t take much alarm until the marine continued, “but the doctor is asking you to come up forward if you please – Miss Sakura seems to be in a bit of a bad way.”

When he arrived at the forecastle, Sakura was sitting on the edge of Syaoran’s cot, holding her hands out awkwardly palm-up in front of her. Flowright was kneeling in front of her, carefully wrapping bandages around one of them. The girl was biting her lip as Flowright worked, and Kurogane could see the weeping blisters on the hand Flowright hadn’t gotten to yet.

Sakura noticed him standing there and gave a start. “Captain Kurogane!” she said. Flowright said nothing, though the line of his neck and back was taut.

Kurogane regarded them, Sakura with her shoulders ever so slightly hunched there on the lower bunk, looking up at him with her head craned awkwardly under the edge of the bunk above, and Flowright winding the spool of linen between her fingers with infinite gentleness.

Kurogane squatted down in front of her with his arms across his knees to be on a level with her. The girl’s brow was creased and she looked down and away when Kurogane neared.

“Hey,” he said gruffly, not liking to see such hesitance and timidity in the girl who’d impressed him back in Piffle. He had been _trying_ to look stern when he’d told her she would have to work hard, and maybe he’d… overdone it a little. “It takes awhile to build up calluses. I should have been thinking about it and given you lighter duty to begin with. So. Sorry.”

Sakura had looked back up at him when he addressed her, and her expression relaxed as he spoke. She replied, “Oh, no, please, it’s my own fault! I said I would work hard and I didn’t want to seem like I was giving up. I thought it was just a little soreness that would go away. I…” she trailed off and then continued, sheepish, “I’ve never gotten blisters before.”

Kurogane snorted and rose. He’d figured that much already. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy,” he warned. “There’s still plenty of work you can do around here.”

Sakura beamed back up at him. “Aye, Captain!”

During their exchange, Flowright had finished bandaging her hands, and as Kurogane turned to leave, he straightened and finally spoke, “May I speak with you privately, Captain?” The words and smile were polite, but his glance was icy.

Kurogane didn’t like the man’s demeanor, but he nodded and headed aft.

“See?” Kurogane could hear Chun Hyang telling Sakura in what was probably meant to be a whisper, “I _told_ you the Captain is nice, even if he does look angry all the time.” Kurogane bristled inwardly. The little brat would be cleaning the deck herself tomorrow!

Instead of going all the way to Kurogane’s cabin, when they reached the little carrel that housed the ship’s medical supplies, Flowright said, “Ah, here we are,” and opened its door. Kurogane followed him into the little space.

“What’s this about?”

“I’m just confused!” Flowright said. “You see,” and he flipped open the lid of _Seeress_ ’ medicine chest and started pulling out vials and tins and laying them on the small table, “I appear to be the default doctor among this crew right now, but the materials I have to work with on your fine vessel are just so, hmm,” he tapped a slender finger against his lips, “… _wanting_.”

He started naming items. “You have ginger root, rum, camphor, and elixir of vitriol. Dakin’s solution long past its preparation date. Linen. Silk thread. Needles. All of _those_.” He gestured at the case of steel instruments.

Kurogane listened, arms folded, not understanding what Flowright was getting at. “And?”

“It’s just all rather _basic_.” He waved a dismissive hand over everything. “No aloe vera, no arnica, no laudanum. These just look more like butchers’ and carpenters’ tools than anything a healer would expect to use!”

Kurogane heard the faint emphasis on ‘ _healer_ ’, and finally understood. So that was what his problem was.

“Look. We don’t have healing magic at sea, and _Seeress_ had no doctor. We do mostly coastal work. If one of my crew needed help, we’d just head back to land.” He shrugged. “On a longer voyage, if someone fell sick or injured, we’d do the best we could. When we sail in pirate waters I hire a real surgeon, and Syaoran collects pamphlets from the surgeons’ boards and makes sure the cook reads them through too, so we do just fine.”

Flowright’s smile was a tight, thin line. “If I had known it was going to be this threadbare aboard your ship, Captain, I would have stopped at an apothecary.”

Kurogane put a hand on the beam above his head and leaned a little toward Flowright. He was aware that he was looming, but didn’t really care. “You could’ve done whatever you liked. But I don’t allow opium on my ship.” He pulled back slightly. “Now, I’ve never heard of arnica. But the cook can give you pork fat to make a salve if you’re that concerned.”

“Pork… fat.” He gave a short laugh. “That seems a little barbaric, don’t you think?”

Kurogane raised an eyebrow. “That’s life at sea. You heard her yourself. She knew what she was getting into, and she chose this.”

The ship creaked around them. Flowright was clearly spoiling for a good fight, but was holding to that insincere, strained civility that made Kurogane’s jaw ache.

“The girl said you weren’t her doctor. Why are _you_ so upset? You wouldn’t be channeling her blisters away anyway.”

 _That_ hit a mark, making Flowright jerk and retort, “Sakura isn’t a ‘ _girl_ ’. She’s a young woman. And she’s in pain and there’s nothing on your ship that will help her.”

Kurogane leaned back and folded his arms. “She’ll heal.” He was watching Flowright carefully. “What’s this actually about? Is this about her being hurt, or about _you_ feeling helpless?” Flowright’s eyes widened at that. “She’s tougher than you think, so stop beating yourself up about it.”

Flowright closed the medicine chest. “I should have guessed that a man who hated her at first sight because she’s from Clow would be so callous toward her.”

Kurogane showed his teeth. “I accepted her onto my ship. I have to see her here. I have to listen to that Clow accent. I _don’t_ fucking like it. But _she_ didn’t fire on Suwano ships, or poison my homeland, so, I don’t have anything against _her_.“

Flowright tensed, then eased. “Is that the case,” he said distantly. “That makes sense, doesn’t it?” He stared unfocused at the polished lid. After a moment he twitched and said, “Furthermore, _Captain_ , you should know that _any_ wound can fester and kill. Even ‘just blisters’. But I can see that we’re done here, so if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go look after my patient.”

Flowright was facing him, and in the small space they had to stand very close to each other. Kurogane filled the doorway, and the roll of the deck under their feet rocked them so that more than once they nearly touched. He could feel the other man’s warmth just inches away, and see the pulse fluttering in the curve of his throat. He didn’t know how long they stared at each other, but this close he could see every minute change, each flicker of thought in Flowright’s face, and for a long, long moment he felt like he was drowning in liquid blue eyes.

“No,” Kurogane finally said. The beginnings of outrage showed on Flowright’s face, and Kurogane added, “You can see her in a minute. We’re not done here.”

Flowright tried to put his hands into his pockets, but the simple pants Masayoshi had tailored for him had been made without any. He ended up folding his arms across his waist instead.

“Tomoyo said that the Piffle lightkeepers were going to use your devices.”

Flowright blinked at the change of topic. “Ah. Yes.”

“So you don’t have to be a wizard to use them.”

“That’s… correct.”

Kurogane nodded once. “I want you to show Syaoran how to set it up.”

Flowright’s expression narrowed and he leaned away, a slight withdrawal that might as well have been miles within the enclosed space. “Why?”

With a snort, Kurogane said, “It’s not so I can throw you overboard, you suspicious moron.” ‘ _More’s the pity,_ ’ part of his mind added. “It’s basic skill duplication. if something happens to any one person on a ship, someone else can still do the job.” Flowright still looked doubtful, so he put his hands on his hips and said, “Lad’s more than clever enough to understand your damn diagrams. He likes that sort of thing – he wrote some paper on hydrography that thrilled a bunch of naturalists in Piffle last year. He’s been studying the sea more than half his life, he’s probably even heard of your turmeric currents.”

He definitely wasn’t _proud_ of his chief mate. It was plain, simple fact the lad was intelligent, that was all.

For some reason, though, he caught the first, faint hint of warmth in Flowright’s expression he had seen since meeting the man less than a day ago, a slight crinkling of the corners of his eyes. What was so amusing? Kurogane huffed. “You have a problem with it?”

“Not at all, Shipmaster.” This was said with what was very nearly a genuine smile, and Kurogane wished he knew what had caused it. “May I pass?”

Kurogane had no reason to continue cornering Flowright into the little medical storage, so he slowly backed out of the way, and watched with a puzzled frown as Flowright made his way forward.

 

 

The wind returned after its absence, feebler than hoped, and had also stayed coming unhelpfully out of the south and southwest, leaving _Seeress_ back to tacking her route across the wind’s path at an uninspiring two and a half knots.

The morning’s light wind was inconvenient for travel, but it did have one very useful consequence: gunnery drills would be much simplified.

With such a large, new crew – if not all new to sailing, then nearly all new to the ship and to each other – the master of _Seeress_ was glad for the chance to gather her entire complement together in the forenoon watch, as soon as all had breakfasted, to see how they worked together and to gauge how they worked her broadside.

Kurogane had spoken earlier with the newcomer Meiling, a confident, wiry girl, who, like most seafarers, kept her hair long. Unlike most, though, who wore their hair tied back in a long queue, she wore hers in two tails that she kept tightly clubbed at the base of her skull while on duty. Her family were firearm and artillery manufacturers, and she had a wealth of knowledge in that arena.

Together they had discussed _Seeress_ ’ armament and made plans for exercising the crew in working her guns. _Seeress_ carried two little swivel-guns in her bows, seldom-used, and a six-pounder chase gun at the stern, and her broadside armament for discouraging pirates and privateers was two 18-pounder carronades on each side – cast-iron guns over three feet long weighing half a ton each that could launch an 18-pound ball of solid iron round shot over a thousand yards.

In the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of the sea under her keel, _Seeress_ ’ hands were called all on deck. Firstly, the more adept among them worked to launch the little rowboat she carried upside-down on deck between her masts. It was hefted and rotated gently over the side to be set into the water, bumping lightly against the larger ship for a minute while its cargo was attached.

Kurogane, Souma, Ryuuoh, and Sergeant Teka, with Syaoran coxing, rowed a good ways out ahead of the ship, towing behind them a long line of makeshift gunnery targets made of sealed, floating barrels. With _Seeress_ moving so slowly, and the rowers pulling strongly together, they sped out over the waves with drops of water flashing on the blades of their oars.

The familiar burn of honest, hard work was something that Kurogane especially enjoyed after the unreleased tension of the earlier morning. The even, steady motions, the drive and slide, the pull in his back and shoulders and the warmth of the morning sun, almost meditative in their regularity and simplicity. Kurogane was in quite a good mood by the time the boat returned to _Seeress_.

Of the crew, only Sakura and Flowright had never practiced in gun drills before, and Kurogane heard Syaoran explaining where they should be careful never to stand or move when the guns were working, in order to avoid the path of their recoil and not to foul the coordinated teamwork necessary to operate them.

With the presence of the marines, Kurogane had a luxury he had never experienced before, that of two full gun crews as well as enough hands to simultaneously make whatever sail a situation called for or to take over tasks if someone was wounded, _and_ someone to care for any wounded safely belowdecks.

Kurogane was not conflict-averse. He did not shy from combat.

But he was not a naval captain, aloof commander of scores of men and women, some of whom were certain to be injured or killed in a naval engagement – he was the master of a little trading ship where the crew was small and could be as close as family. As much as Kurogane’s blood might sing for violence betimes, to leap across an enemy deck with sword in hand, he had a responsibility to look out for his crew, especially those who had been with him longest and who trusted him to look out for them. He was not the kind of man who would put their lives at risk to make room for his own ego or desires.

Masayoshi had run away to sea at eleven, and though he was far too near-sighted to be able to steer a ship or navigate, the boy loved the sea and would never be happy living ashore.

Chun Hyang was an excitable, cheerful kid who wrote letters to her mother every week and sent off her accumulated stacks in hefty parcels at every port the ship touched.

Syaoran had been at sea for almost half his life now, and the sea had shaped a withdrawn, quiet child into a tall, skilled seafarer, expanding his mastery of the waves through study.

And now his new hands, people he didn’t know yet but whom he was responsible for nonetheless, all of the souls aboard his little ship whose lives mattered and he had to defend to the best of his ability.

At sea, the rules were thus: Run from a bigger ship. Don’t let yourself be boarded. You fight only if you must, but then you fight like mad.

If war was going to break out with Clow, Kurogane planned to be able to fight like mad.

And so he stood, watching from the helm as Meiling organized the marines into two teams at the starboard guns, and the sailors at the forward larboard gun, with Sakura and Flowright standing close by to learn.

No one had been idle on deck while the boat had rowed the targets out ahead, and they had laid out the handspikes, buckets of water, sponges on long rods, the rammers, and other tools in precise positions around each gun. Heavy round shot had been brought up from their lockers below and lay close at hand in garlands, loops of rope between the guns to keep the iron balls from rolling away. The captain of each team carried a priming wire and a horn filled with gunpowder, and Masayoshi very carefully held a box with one charge in it, a little sewn bag holding a pound of gunpowder wrapped in a woolen casing.

The sails shaded the deck as everyone waited for their first order. _Seeress_ had begun to near the first floating target.

“Number one gun, cast loose!”

At Meiling’s word, the marines at the first carronade leapt into action. The two closest to the rail who would be the loader and sponger unhooked the side-tackles and hauled hard on them, hand over hand, sliding the thousand-pound gun on its rolling carriage a few feet inboard until its movement was checked by its breeching ropes, with its muzzle now inside the rail instead of sticking out past the deck.

“Out tompion!”

The marines acting as first and second gun captains hooked the three train tackles from the back of the gun to iron bolts in the deck behind it, the rear train tackle securing it to prevent it from rolling back outward, while the sponger removed the wooden tompion that plugged the muzzle of the gun to keep water out when not in use.

“Load cartridge!”

Masayoshi handed his bag of powder to the loader, then raced below for another. The loader pushed the cartridge into the muzzle of the gun, and the sponger took up the long ramming rod and pounded the cartridge as far into the barrel as it would go.

“Shot your gun!”

The second captain had already retrieved a ball from its garland, and he passed it to the loader. The loader rolled the ball into the carronade’s muzzle and the second captain quickly passed him a wad of rags and frayed cordage, which the loader shoved in after the ball. The sponger rammed them both home hard.

“Prime!”

The first captain was ready with the priming wire. He slid it smartly down the touch hole to pierce the cartridge, and then poured powder from the horn into the channel he’d created, packing it down with the butt of the powderhorn.

“Run out your gun!”

The captains released the rear train-tackle, and the sponger and loader grabbed the side-tackles once again and heaved, running the carronade back out as far as it would go in its slide carriage to point out over the side.

“Point your gun!”

The first captain sighted along the gun’s barrel while the second captain worked the elevating screw until the first captain called for him to stop. The loader and sponger each grabbed one of the side train-tackles to traverse the gun from side to side as the captain judged the distance and angle to his floating target. It was still some ways ahead of their course, and number one’s crew had to point it quite sharply forward to get a good bearing on the target.

“Fire!”

As the sea moved under _Seeress_ her sides were alternately tipped a little upward or a little downward. Her starboard beam lifted on the uproll, and the first captain snatched the slow-match from the second captain and thrust the smouldering end into the touch hole.

All in the same instant, the priming powder ignited, which ignited the cartridge, and with a deafenng, deep bang and a gout of flame and smoke, the shot flew across the sea and the gun recoiled hard backwards in its slide, stopped again by the breeching ropes. The second captain re-secured the rear train-tackle to keep the gun from sliding back out too soon.

“Serve your vent!”

Smoke drifted across the deck as the first captain covered the touch hole with his thumb, protected by the leather thumb stall he wore.  

“Sponge!”

The sponger had taken the long staff with its bundle of rags on one end and dunked it into the water barrel on deck beside him. With the gun captain sealing the touch hole to keep any sparks from flying out through it and onto deck, the sponger shoved the wet sponge into the muzzle, twirling it all the way in and then back out, blackened and steaming.

While they did this, the rest of the hands watched the flight of the ball, which finally struck the water perhaps twenty yards shy of its target and sent up a tall, white geyser. Number three gun’s marine crew cheered them with a hearty, “Wooo!”

Masayoshi had returned with a new cartridge, and when Meiling called, “Load cartridge!” again, the practiced choreography repeated itself. This time, the first captain called for the slightest further turn of the elevating screw, directed the loader and sponger on the side train-tackles to revise the angle of fire, and, when the smoke cleared, the ship was rewarded with the sight of the floating target being reduced to a fountain of splinters.

Everyone cheered heartily, and Syaoran, looking at the chronometer, said, “Two minutes and seven seconds, sir.”

Number three gun’s crew performed just as well. Though they missed their target both times by a matter of yards, their rate of fire was two minutes and one second. Major Kanio clapped his marines on the back happily.

Well, alright, then.

Kurogane was finally impressed.

The sailors working number two gun, on the larboard side, were hardly less competent, but they were less rigorously drilled in working together. It took them longer between firings, two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, but Souma, sighting carefully along her gun, struck both of her targets dead center.

The crew practised live fire only a few more times after that – gunpowder being expensive – and Meiling coached each gun crew through a very thorough critique of their teamwork and handling, and they practised going through the motions ‘dry’, so to speak, for the rest of the forenoon. Sakura was fascinated by it all, and Meiling very happily settled in to teaching her everything she might possibly desire to know about working a cannon. Syaoran and Flowright disappeared below – Kurogane had told Syaoran to use his cabin, there being more space available there than in the tiny booth forward of it where Syaoran kept all of his scientific notes.

And the wind had been picking up over the last hour, too.

All in all, a very successful morning.

Kurogane nodded to himself with satisfaction. If any Clow warship thought to make prize of a little schooner, they would not have an easy time of it.

 

 

It was just a little thing.

A sound so small that Kurogane never was able to tell how he had managed to hear it.

It was early in the first dog watch, and only Syaoran was on deck at the helm while the rest of the crew had their supper belowdecks. Kurogane had come up to use the heads, and in a rare beat of silence – perhaps the sea and ship had both been shocked into stillness in the moment it took – there was the softest splash from the windward bow.

Something in the quality of the sound in that instant told Kurogane exactly what it was.

“ _Man overboard_!” he roared, and dove over the rail.

The blur of _Seeress’_ side, the rush of air and the drop, no time to breathe deep, a brief pale gleam already fathoms below, and then dense soundlessness and cold, cold seawater.

 

Syaoran’s heart stuttered at the shipmaster’s bellow. He sucked in a breath and shouted, “ _All hands on deck_!”

The crew swarmed up from the companionway and mainhatch, and amid the flurry of orders to reduce sail and change tack and launch the boat, Sakura rushed to the taffrail.

 

He kicked out powerfully, angling after the shape being quickly swallowed by the darkness of the deep.

He swept a hand out, but it passed through floating hair and found no purchase.

Another kick closer, and, _there_!- a fistful of shirt and slender arm, and he strove for the surface.

His eyes burned with the salt. His lungs burned.

His heart pounded all the way to his toes.

He swam harder.

 

“Do you see them?” Syaoran called. He had to keep all his attention on the ship and couldn’t spare a glance at Sakura.

“No,” she wailed.

“Look starboard, along the wake.”

No answer. And then-

“I see them!”

“Good!” Syaoran called. “Do not take your eyes off of them! Point, and keep pointing!”

As soon as the boat was away and _Seeress_ had come about with her sails braced on a tack to catch up to them, Syaoran looked for Sakura.

She had followed the line of the rail around as the ship had changed course, and was up at the larboard bow, still pointing over the waves, acting as a spotter. Syaoran followed the line of her arm with his eyes, squinting against the bloody light of the setting sun, and finally he spotted them too, Captain Kurogane’s dark head nearly invisible, and Doctor Flowright’s pale one bobbing in the sea.

Syaoran heaved a great sigh of relief, and smiled proudly at Sakura’s back. He was astounded that Sakura had been able to spot the two, and astounded that it had happened at all. He had been vaguely aware of the doctor visiting the heads earlier, but had ignored it with the polite, deliberate inattention that was a seafarer’s only privacy.

That something like this had happened on Syaoran’s watch! Had the doctor grown seasick again and fallen? Or lost his footing on the wet platform somehow? Syaoran’s stomach twisted. And yesterday he had worked Sakura so hard that her palms had blistered. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he could apologize to both of them.

You always stand tall on deck, Syaoran knew, but as he sailed the ship closer to the rowboat where Ryuuoh and Sergeant Teka were already helping haul the doctor and captain aboard, his shoulders felt heavy with guilt.

 

Kurogane’s head broke the surface, and he gratefully sucked in as much air as possible, with one arm wrapped around Flowright’s chest to keep him upright as Kurogane treaded water for them both. Salt dripped in his eyes and it was difficult to see much beyond Flowright’s head, limp against Kurogane’s shoulder. The swell was heavier than he would have liked, but not terrible, and he knew a boat would be reaching them soon. His main concern was that he couldn’t tell whether Flowright was breathing or not.

“Hey,” he said, shaking the man a little. There was no response.

“Flowright,” he said. “ _Fai_.” He punctuated this with a stout squeeze around his middle, and was rewarded by Flowright gagging and expelling a respectable amount of water. He gasped and coughed and started to struggle, hitting his head against Kurogane’s chin and almost bringing them both under again.

”Hey!” Kurogane repeated. “Calm down!”

Flowright’s struggles were interrupted by a coughing fit, and Kurogane had to kick hard to keep them both afloat. When Flowright finally caught his breath, Kurogane crossed an arm securely about Flowright’s chest again.

“You’re safe, alright? You’re not gonna drown here. Just stay still.”

Flowright let his head fall back against Kurogane’s shoulder, exhausted, and Kurogane kept hold of him until the boat arrived.

 

 

Flowright had passed out while they returned to the ship, and remained in a stupor while Kurogane carried him, dripping, over the rail and down the hatch.

He roused, however, after Kurogane set him down on a blanket atop the cot in his cabin, and began methodically stripping off his clothing.

Kurogane peeled the soaking sailcloth shirt over Flowright’s head and dropped it unceremoniously to the planking. “What are you-“ he began, but Kurogane dropped a towel over Flowright’s head to muffle him, and began working at his trousers. Flowright batted his hands away and clawed the towel down to squint a mixture of confusion and alarm at Kurogane.

“Fine,” Kurogane shrugged. “Take them off yourself,” and he began yanking his own clothes off. His hair hung in a sodden tail down his back, he was freezing cold, and damn it he didn’t want either of them to catch a chest cold, particularly Flowright, who’d been the one to have water _in_ his chest.

He’d worked his shirt off and was toweling his head first so as to stop flinging seawater about his cabin, but he paused when he noticed Flowright still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even started drying himself off, but was staring with a glazed expression.

Kurogane looked at him with concern. “Hey. Are you alright?” and he placed the back of his hand against Flowright’s forehead to see if he felt feverish. Flowright shied away, but his eyes cleared a little, and Kurogane frowned at him. He couldn’t feel a fever, but Flowright was already shivering.

“Those need to come off,” he said, pointing at the trousers, “so that you don’t catch cold and die on my ship. You’re a damn doctor, aren’t you? You should know that much.” Kurogane fixed him with a glare. “I’ll do it for you if you don’t get moving.”

Slowly, Flowright began working the heavy, soaked clothing off, and Kurogane finished disrobing.

He toweled himself dry, opened the door at a knock to receive a couple of oven-heated bricks wrapped in cloth from Masayoshi, and rummaged through his storage chest for more blankets and two changes of clothing. He dressed himself, tossed two blankets and a dry pair of shirt and trousers onto the cot next to Flowright, who had finally finished drying with Kurogane’s towel, and then began hanging a hammock into the space above the chest.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m gonna go to bed.”

“…but this is your bed.”

“Yeah, well, tonight it’s yours. Get dressed.”

Flowright pulled on the dry clothing, but sat there when he was finished, looking at his feet. He made a noise, and Kurogane looked up. “Hm?”

“Why. Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Flowright gestured at Kurogane, head still angled downward. Kurogane couldn’t tell what he meant, and said so.

“You shouldn’t be _kind_ to me,” Flowright finally grit out.

Kurogane folded his arms. “And why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“You have no idea. You-“ Flowright seemed as if he was going to say more, but the roll of the ship seemed suddenly to unbalance him, and he slumped over sideways. Alarmed, Kurogane reached out to steady him and lay him down carefully.

Flowright muttered to himself, eyelids flickering, and Kurogane touched his forehead again. This time it really was warm.

“Flowright,” Kurogane asked, “what’s wrong?”

“It turns out,” he gave a bitter laugh, “at sea, you can run from anything except for yourself.”

“Tch,” Kurogane said. It had to be the wizard’s curse again, making Flowright incoherent. “Hey. Flowright.” The man looked slowly over at him. “What did you use when you were sick yesterday?”

Flowright smiled at the beams above their heads. “Should I tell you? Then you really _will_ hate me.”

“Just fucking tell me and I’ll get it.”

“Since you _insist_ ,” Flowright murmered, and his voice took on a sing-song quality, “In a little case, inside a little pouch, inside a little box, inside a sack, with all my things, is a bag of grave dust. I place it under my head to confuse the waters…”

Kurogane straightened, and left the cabin.

 

Flowright roused just far enough a little later to become aware of the pillow under his head being shifted a little, followed by a feeling of substantial relief washing over him. He let out a deep sigh, and all the tension drained out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> beam reach - sailing when the wind is blowing at a right angle to the direction of travel, i.e., the wind is ‘on the beam’. On a gaff schooner, this can offer some of the fastet sailing that sort of ship design is capable of.
> 
> bilge-pump - a wooden ship did not have a perfectly waterproof hull, and would take on a little water while travelling as a matter of course, which needed to be pumped out regularly. Heavy weather or any other stress to the timbers, such the dramatic recoil of solid iron cannon being fired, or any hole made by damage below the waterline, would cause a ship to take on more water than usual.
> 
> bowsprit - the long horizontal mast that juts out forward from the bows of a ship
> 
> carronade - carronades were the innovation of the Carron Company, a foundry in Sccotland, in 1778. In the universe of this fic, perhaps a similar innovation would have gone by a different name, but the “piffleade” is a ridiculous thing to name a piece of artillery.
> 
> chronometer - another note of interest regarding 18th century technology in our universe is the development of a timepiece accurate enough to allow navigators to determine longitude at sea. Various governments of Europe were understandably keen to have their capacity for sea-trade improved by advanced navigational techniques. Britain established a Board of Longitude (properly, “Commissioners for the Discovery of the Longitude at Sea”) in 1714, which offered cash prizes for innovations in the field. Leaps ahead in technology for timepieces were certainly one of the major gateways for European dominance of the oceans in the 18th and 19th centuries. The chronometer in the universe of this fic has built in bells to mark the passage of time, because why the hell not.
> 
> coxswain (cox'n), coxing - the person at the tiller of a small boat who looks forward to steer and direct, or cox, the boat. The rowers face the coxswain and therefore row while facing backwards in a boat.
> 
> Dakin's solution - 1) in our universe, Henry Dakin and Alexis Carrel invented an antiseptic for wound care in 1915 made of boric acid and extremely dilute sodium hypochlorite (aka, bleach). In the universe of this fic, there may be magic, but magic is simply exploitation of some very unique physics, and if its practitioners can't manage to advance the field of chemistry by a century or so, well then honestly, why bother having magic at all, imo. 2) Still, sodium hypochlorite breaks down with time, temperature, and exposure to light, and Dakin's solution was only effective for wound cleaning for 9-10 days after preparation. A more shelf-stable preparation of Dakin's solution still sees some limited use today in wound management in some situations, such as attempting to combat infection in diabetic foot ulcers. Expired Dakin’s solution would be no more helpful than pouring water into a wound.
> 
> fisherman - a large, four-sided sail set high aloft between the tops of the foremast and mainmast. Sometimes even when there is no wind at the water's surface, there are wind currents ("light airs") higher up that a ship can catch with its upper sails.
> 
> futtock-shrouds - shrouds are part of the standing rigging that help support masts. The futtock-shrouds are ropes that run from the underside of the tops to a point only a little further down the masts, making the sailor climb them while dangling at a 45-degree angle to get up over the edge of the platform and into the top.
> 
> heel - the sideways incline of a ship under the force of a strong wind from the side
> 
> knot, knots - a measure of speed. Twelve knots is twelve nautical miles per hour. A nautical mile is just slightly longer than the mile we use on land (being the distance of 1/60th of a degree of latitude).
> 
> ratlines - horizontal ropes between shrouds, creating a ‘rope ladder’ leading up to the base of the futtock-shrouds just below the head of a mast 
> 
> slow-match - a slow-burning length of cord used to ignite cannon charges. For ships whose artillery had not been fitted with flintlocks, or in case of the flintlock failing, the small, burning tip was safer to use around gunpowder than any kind of open flame or sparking alternative.
> 
> taffrail - the part of the rail along the stern
> 
> tops (foretop, maintop) - small platforms at the tops (heads) of masts used to help anchor the support ropes for masts and spars, and also useful as observation or repair platforms
> 
> topsails - fore topsail and/or main topsail, sails set on the topmasts, above the lower masts. They may be gaff-style topsails, or square topsails as seen on a square-rigged ship.
> 
> traverse-board - a simple way of indicating the average direction and speed sailed during each half-hour chunk of a watch, by placing pegs into holes corresponding to direction and speed in a carved wooden compass rose. This could be used at the end of a watch to calculate a more or less close idea of a ship’s progress.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:  
> I have tried to research the sailing stuff as well as possible, but I am certain to have gotten things wrong. Please forgive me. A few days on the internet and a bookshelf full of Patrick O’Brian is not sufficient to make a sailor out of a landlubber. I hope my mistakes did not make it too difficult to enjoy this little adventure, at least. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Elfhawk3 deserves the greatest of thanks for beta-ing this work and improving it considerably. Thanks, Elf. You're the very best~
> 
> The title is from "Wreck of the Hesperus" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. This story bears little resemblance to the poem, but I admired the phrasing. 
> 
> If you got this far, please sail on over to the KuroFai Dreamwidth community to give your rating for [this fic](http://kurofai.dreamwidth.org/101576.html) and its competitors for the [2017 KuroFai Fic Olympics](http://kurofai.dreamwidth.org/tag/2017+olympics)!


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